'All pasts are like poems; one can derive a thousand things, but not live in them' John Fowles

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

My sickly self

The past two days were horrible to say the least. Woke up on Monday with a sore throat and a slight fever, then it ballooned into something bigger; my temperature kept scaling new heights and the last time I checked when I was almost delirious, it reached 39.3 deg. Subsequently it dropped a little, but not much. Was bedridden most of the time. And was I in agony. It'd be completely alright if not for the impending PW OP which was supposed to take place yesterday. Now everyone (except for my group) in class had gone through it... and I'm still awaiting doomsday. Oh joy. But as Reubs and DC said, this might be a blessing in disguise. (I don't see how, 'cos we'll be presenting in front of complete strangers, which might quadruple my stage fright. HaiZ.)

Am still quite wobbly on my feet now, though the fever's gone. Appetite's horrible, and I can't seem to stand upright for even a few seconds without feeling giddy. The last time a fever this bad happened, it was right before Jay's concert last year. Hmm that was much worse becuase it raged for 3 days straight (teethered dangerously near 40 deg). I was praying fervently for me to get well in time so that I could attend his concert. And I did. Haha. This time round I'm praying fervently for myself to survive Chinese and PW.

Ah well. Time for some chinese revision...

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